Yume No Ato
by shizutte
Summary: The existence and contemplation of Daedalus Yumeno. Do not trust story summaries for they are too short to say anything.
1. Cogito Ergo Sum

1. Cogito Ergo Sum.

These are the words of the philosopher Rene Descartes, a man from the ancient world of mankind, just at the dawn of the technology that would go on to annihilate the world. The past is no longer existent in the world of ruins. These are but words preserved in the vaults filled floor to ceiling with the ancient words of Mankind, words no one reads anymore.

I am but no one in this world that has ceased to possess meaning.

In the dim light filtering through the ventilator high above my head, in the domed ceiling of a vault so large I could not see its end,

I had touched those pages that broke into pieces under my gloved fingers. The solidness of books was surprisingly reassuring, even as they crumbled and tore under my lightest touch.

Books, volumes of information made of paper bound together; paper, a fragile and wasteful form of information storage employed by the ancient mankind. The new entourage assigned to me days ago supplied the piece of explanation with cold ease.

I had returned to the same vault years later, and memories of the afternoon rushed upon me when I happened upon the same spot. It was the same spot for there beside the foot of a tall shelf, a pile of parchment dust marked the book that gave its life to be read.

The title read, Meditation, I could still recall.

* * *

I promised Lima-hime I'll write an Ergo Proxy fic sooner or later. So here it is.

Yes it is an Ergo Proxy fic, don't u see the 'Cogito Ergo Sum'[laughs

Yes that was an intended joke.

It'll look more like an Ergo Proxy fic once I get into the main events of the anime series.

For those who would like some footnotes/explainations..

1. Cogito Ergo Sum is a reference used in Ergo Proxy, it's first coined by French philosopher Rene Descartes. Meditation was the book Descartes wrote. It's pretty easy in terms of language, in comparison to some of the brain-twister other philosophers wrote... so if you're interested, you can go pick it up.

2. Descartes was putting to doubt everything he's not 100 certain of. A good example is that you're not certain that your eyes aren't deceiving you. To push that to the extreme, think of Matrix. If you dig down to the end of everything, the only thing [according to Descartes you can be 100 certain of is that you [your mind, rather exists, because the fact that you're thinking means thoughts exist, and thoughts needs thinkers[lota people don't agree with this though, and therefore you exist [lota people think it's too big a leap.

PS: Ergo proxy is awesome, Daedalus is MOE [don't flame, it's a matter of personal taste.


	2. God

2. God

Descartes's desire for God to exist drove him to embrace the circularity of his ontological arguments despite the rigorous manner he wielded his skepticism against the smallest uncertainty.

God, the single point of the pinhead on which the philosophy of the ancient mankind balanced, holding on with desperate belief, swaying in the gale of pure godless logic. God justify creation, God endow existence with essence, God draws the line that divides right from wrong, God bestows freewill without evil, God joins the physical to the mental...

God is the answer, closest at hand, easiest to reach. God, is the very desire of Man.

The ancient Existentialists refused God, choosing to carve out their path among brambles, alone, in search of meaning that is lost with the passing of God. They are no longer here too, their words side by side with texts of religion slowly turning to dust in the high vaults, sealed from the world.

The burden carried out of free will is always lighter. God is always there, waiting with forgiveness, the moment one can walk no further.

What is there to do then, when God turned his back to the world and walks away?

What can one see but not despair and horror, for the very foundation of existence is now lost?

* * *

more footnotes...

1. The God I'm referring to here refer to a generalised monotheistic God. And example is the Christian God, another is Allah. I'm not in any way making reference to any particular religion if you're interested to know, and I'm atheist by the way...

2. Refer to Descartes's ontological argument... it's pretty circular. Basically Descartes realised that he can't get to anywhere by holding that he refuse anything that isn't 100 certain and that the only thing he's certain is that he exists. So he makes another argument that God exists, which no.1 solves the 'Does God exist' problem, and no.2 gives Descartes an existing world to work around with.

3. Existentialism is basically dealing with finding the point of existence, or whatever depending on interpretation, since existentialism itself is quite complicated. Generally, the idea is that with a God, God created beings with intention in mind, so essence precedes existence in the case of these beings. But since existentialists don't think there's a God, existence precedes essence for them, so they need to find the 'essence'... I've not properly read this chapter when I was supposed to do it... so point out the errors if you spot any


	3. Eyes

3. Eye

When Mosko dome fell, I was born.  
That was how the computation worked, perfect in its calculation, seamless in its plan.

In the Godless world we seek meaning that was torn from us by turning to the quest for a God.

In actuality, it does not matter, be it God or the essence of existence we seek.

Human are frail creatures. They cling to the God that created them, that endowed them with essence before existence, in this world held in the cage of a dome. Man cannot exist without a reason for existence, even the search for the reason of existence is enough, when the meaning itself cease to be.

But that was my opinion.

Donov Mayer believes otherwise.

Thus, I was born for the fall of Mosko, and the treasure they wrestled from the throne of Mosko dome. This was what that went down in record, the record that would eventually rot away in desolation, never read, never felt, an account far unmatched by the act itself.

Only I will remember her eyes.

Those eyes, deep amber was far from approaching their shade and depth. They have engraved their memory in me, beyond my will. Even after we have blinded her with pain and surgery, after we have destroyed her mind and soul with bitterness and syringes, tore away her unearthly grace and serenity with torture and confinement, they remain there in my mind, guileless, otherworldly, calm and unchanging.

The troop that brought her back, almost bloodless from the numerous bullet holes could not mar the composed smile frozen on her lips, went insane, one by one, slowly.

They all shot themselves in the end.

We could not save them in time. Or rather, Donov Mayer was inconvenient at the moment.

'It', they called her.

The deputy for the care unit missed one shot of anaesthesia; I got rid of him for the offence.

I could never get rid of the moment when I prepared the shot, turned, and fell into the crystalline sea of her amber eyes.

I watch my arms reach out and slide the needle into her veins with perfect practised accuracy by their own will.

She gently bore me to the shore on warm amber waves and then receded away for eternity, leaving me stranded on the dry air.

Monad proxy died in my very hands. Just the shell remains.

'It', is how the specimen is to be referred to as, motionless, mounted on the white stage under spotlights without temperature.

I filed in the updated status of the specimen, and filed away the memory of the amber sea that I drained with my own hands.

Those eyes.

* * *

It always puzzles me. If Daedalus was born to take care of Monad Proxy and Re-l, and he looks about the same age as Re-l, does it mean he's really young when he's started his job...?

That aside, this is the first official content-based chapter. Now it looks like an Ergo Proxy fic.


	4. Rel

4. Re-l

"When we were young..."

Those are the words I'd give anything to be able to say, and look full and true into your eyes.

We were never young. I was not born to be young, not meant to be a child in any way at any time. I was made out of necessity, of need and urgency. You, did you ever know how much of your memory is synthetic? I crafted them, sitting in the morning sun with mugs of tea, watching the tea leaves swirl in its deterministic descent to the bottom, every bit and piece of them. I was never young when you were a child, watching you growing up in years compressed into months by medication I measured out to perfect precision, those are just your memories--us growing up together.

Yet truth is the one absolute entity that refuses to be put away, shielded and maimed, for the better good of whatever I cannot say or even believe in. What is "Good" anyway, in this deterministic universe that is rendered amoral by the non-existence of decision?

I know, they snigger away, or look in blank awe. But it is the truth that I am not made the same as those numerous milling creatures passing into this world and then out of it. I was made for you, and for that, I was different.

There are times where the precision of science shatters; you hide behind one of them. It is those times I am inclined to resort to the unsophisticated term known as 'the mysterious force of the universe', topped with a smirk so that you know I am far above such petty beliefs. Yet still, I am reluctant to give up the last sentiment for any uncertainty that may drive us, into a different dimension of future, however naive that sounds, hopes and dreams.

You are not who you are supposed to be. That would be the first words I would say to you, were I able to break this restraint of silence. You were meant to have eyes the shade coded by gene Orc057W, and pale hair, expressed by gene Ker087B. You ought to have disposition refined and calm, inclination for peace and silence engraved in the very code that defines your existence, those elegant double helix entwined in hydrogen bonds. From the beginning you violate all of them rules, accumulated from years of induction, unreliable yet solid induction that held on, till your appearance. If scientific precision is the measure of skill, you are the evidence of my unsightly failure.

Perhaps the greater irony remains in your absolute ignorance about the very basis of your utterly utilitarian existence. If the metaphor may serve, you are facing your first and only game of chess where your opponent"s existence and moves reside in an alternate dimension invisible to you. To the best of your knowledge, chess about is moving your pieces across a patterned piece of wood, aimless, meaningless, innocent from the stain of bloodshed and treachery, like the spin of planets.

Perhaps it is a little patronizing to assume that in the normative sense of the world one would see all chess pieces wholesome and visible, all players sitting in plain view across the chessboard. After all, even the other half of this game of chess sees my existence as a piece in their domain, my vision limited to the reach of one square, docile as beaten canine.

Yet I see them, and this knowledge that I have which they do not has wound itself around my stronghold, impervious as an asymptote. Just as the player sees his pieces and the pieces know only their moves, no one can spy me as I stand over the game of chess on the board known as Romodo Dome. Every petty move and concealed stealth is rendered painfully transparent to the point where I can no longer bother to summon a drop of amusement or pity.

This is human nature--or are we even human? Created, not born, made with purpose and endowed with essence. In the books of the existentialist, human thinkers whose thoughts I have touched in the vast crumbling tomb of ancient paper, or books, we are not even human.

What would you have said, Re-l?

I could just see the hidden smile that does not reach your face, sharp as porcelain blades, clear and smooth that renders this destiny into sunlight shards. You alone hold the line to escapade.

May I be entitled to call it sheer cruelty of the gods then, that I, the single mind that knows what you unknowingly possess, am frozen all the same, in the monolith of predetermined existence?

Love and hate is perhaps one and the same, then. 

* * *

First and foremost, I apologise for leaving this in a state of inactivity for such a prolonged period of time. I am nearing my final year exams, and am trying hard to bar myself from the computer.

And now you see how it failed to work, for I have written a new chapter here.

Now, back to the stability and electro/nucleo-philic property of heterocyclic compounds, and other more convoluted things to follow.


End file.
